Content
by clautchy
Summary: Wing!Cas. After a close shave, Dean and Sam learn angels have visible wings, and Dean is far too interested for Cas' liking.


_**AN:**_ I have only recently caught up with the series - probably the worst decision in my life because feels - and I am a definite Destiel shipper. I've read a lot of fics and kind of enjoy the wing!kink, so I've written my own thing. So far, this chapter is purely fluff and things. If I get enough reviews, I can extend that into a better exploration. Idk. I have quite a lot of things I want to write and this literally happened in an hour so it wasn't planned or anything. Hope you like!

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Dean had never been quite sure of an angel's true form. He knew that he would never be able to see their true forms, or even listen to their voice without the risk of becoming death and blind in the process. He had heard that angels were more like a divine mass, not quite physical but somehow, there was shape. Dean mostly assumed that their true forms were contained within the vessel.

But _wings_. He was beginning to believe that an angel's wings were nothing more than a projected fantasy made popular by Renaissance artists. Angels could transport themselves, and he always heard the flapping of wings, but he didn't believe that they truly existed. Not physically.

Dean and his brother were just doing their job – hunting. Of course, it all went downhill when they accidentally stumbled into a horde of demons intent in tearing apart both Dean and Sam, and they could have very well done so if it weren't for Cas. Dean had considered not calling for help at all, but they were so desperate, a fallen angel was better than nothing.

"...Just get your divine ass over here!" Dean yelled into the receiver quickly, only to have a woman, eyes black all over, to snatch his mobile and crush it in her hand. She hauled Dean by the scruff of his jacket and hurled him across the room, causing him to smash into the glass cabinet. He swore, tasting blood in his mouth and a deep cut stinging his elbow. He raised his head slowly, seeing a montage of blurred images of Sam being pummelled by at least six demons. Dean blinked a few times; staggering to his feet with what little strength he had left and stumbled towards Sam. He threw a punch at the closest demon, wondering if the teenage male was still in there, and if he could feel that punch. The demon only smirked, blocking Dean's punch by counteracting his blow, forcing his wrist to twist in a direction it wasn't supposed to.

"Son of a –," he clenched his teeth together, slamming his body into the barrier of demons that separated both Sam and Dean, "Sammy!" he was becoming desperate, grabbing a glimpse of Sam who was beginning to look more faint by the second, his reflexes slowing and blocks useless.

_Where was Cas?_

Sam was losing consciousness. His shoulders drooped and he collapsed onto the floor, allowing the demons to crush him. Dean's body had had it but his mind was racing, afraid for his brother and their survival. His vision was becoming darker and the blood coursing from the glass wounds weren't slowing.

He had avoided fate – literally – more than once. He shouldn't be surprised, not really. He was always going to die on the job.

The familiar sound of wings was enough for Dean to open his eyes again. There were screams and shouts, a bright light and bodies dropping to the floor. How was Cas killing every demon? He frowned and caught Sam's confused stare. Even if Cas was able to kill demons by touch, they still outnumbered him.

That was when Dean looked up. Like a canopy and as dark as a raven, majestic wings towered over both Sam and himself, acting as a shield from the oncoming demons. Dean couldn't help but stare with utmost disbelief at the glossy feathers protruding from Cas' shoulder blades. He could see two slits in his shirt – no trench coat. Maybe he didn't want to break it. Dean didn't even know why he cared about his damn trench coat, to be perfectly honest. He was more interested in the _damn wings_. Wings? Since when did angels have wings on a physical plane? He glanced back to Sam, who only shrugged, seemingly as confused as he was. And in extension, why hadn't Cas ever said anything about his wings? Question after question piled up in Dean's brain: are all angels' wings black? Can you actually _fly_? Are they heavy? What do they feel like?

Curiously, Dean reached his hand up to stroke on the many feathers but the wing was just out of his grasp. He gave up quickly.

It wasn't long before Cas stepped away from the brothers, surveying the countless bodies he had smote. So they were all dead. That took a bit of guilt off Dean's chest.

Sam was the first to rise, standing shakily. His left eye was swollen and on the whole, was very beaten up. Dean staggered to his feet soon after, wiping the blood from his face. It had little effect.

"Cas..." Sam started, trailing off immediately for lack of words. His wings were folded but they were, in contrast to his height, a lot larger. Dean couldn't help but notice how _different_ Cas looked, how so much more powerful he seemed, purely because of the physical presence of the wings. He looked... angelic.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably on the spot, attempting very hard to look anywhere but at Sam and Dean, "You were both foolish for attacking so many demons at once, and without any devil's traps, salt and, might I add, the blade." He was purposely avoiding the elephant in the room.

Dean cleared his throat, "Hey, mistakes happen. We had a bad lead."

Sam nodded in agreement solemnly, although Sam and Dean both knew that it was predominantly Dean's fault that they had found themselves in the situation in the first place.

Castiel didn't say anything, instead finally resting his gaze on Dean. Dean was mostly used to it by now, but it never ceased to be awkward as _hell_, what with Cas having no understanding of personal space or how obviously weird it was to stare at someone with eyes as intense as his. He decided it would be best to break the gaze before Sam started up about it later, "Cas. Wings," he stated bluntly.

His wings jerked at the very mentioning of them, "I am an angel. I would have thought it would be obvious that I have wings."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "It isn't too obvious when this is the first time we've ever seen wings on an angel. You could've said something. How do they work? Parallel plane of existence?"

Cas shrugged, "More or less. All angels are able to show their wings, but we choose not to as we receive... unwanted attention. I only took them out to provide protection, as demons are unable to touch my wings for they are propelled backwards by the divine aurora."

"Huh," Dean said, amused by 'divine aurora'. It was funny to think that demons couldn't even get close to Cas' wings because they were _too divine_ to be touched, "Well, how about you take us back to our motel, 'cause I'm really interested about these wings of yours."

"My wings are none of your business," Castiel replied coldly, "You'll speak about them no more." He tapped both Sam and Dean's shoulders, and in a split second they were standing back in their room, Cas sitting on the edge of Dean's bed while he fidgeted with his wings. Outstretched, they were triple the length of his arm span.

"What are you doing?" Dean questioned.

"Pulling an angel's wings out is difficult. Putting them away is even more so."

Sam crossed the room, "I'll be back with some medical supplies. Dean, try and stop bleeding all over the carpet."

Dean had almost forgotten he was bleeding, his cuts having gone numb. While Cas toyed with his wings, Dean ventured into the bathroom to take off his jacket and shirt. He splashed his face with water, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He didn't look too good. Pressing the handtowel tightly to the wound across his side, he returned back to Cas, "Hey, Feathers, why can't you just heal me and Sam?"

Cas only looked infuriated by the interruption. Dean wasn't even sure what the hell he was doing – a lot of flapping, by the looks of it. He stood up and pressed two fingers against Dean's forehead, immediately sitting back down, "Don't call me Feathers."

Dean snorted. It was the first time Cas had been actively offended by Dean's childish nicknames. "Why're ya so touchy about your wings, anyway? Are they too divine to be spoken about?" he joked, although genuinely curious.

Cas heaved a sigh, visibly irritated by Dean's questioning. He folded his wings reluctantly and gave his feathers a shake, "Dean, it is something we prefer not to discuss." He was obviously uncomfortable with his wings so vulnerable, but Dean had a feeling that an angel's wings meant a lot more than his grace.

But staring at his wings, Dean was feeling only more and more tempted to touch them, to feel soft feathers between his fingers.

Cas stood up defensively, storming across to the other side of the room where he stared out the window intently, Dean unable to take his gaze off the dark, raven-like feathers. With hesitation, he walked up behind Cas, reaching out to stroke his wing.

Instead, the angel turned around and pushed himself against the window, angered by Dean's motives, "Dean," he said warningly.

"Dude," Dean said, "I'm just curious. Why won't you let me? It's not like I'm gonna yank them out of ya."

"I know that," Cas snapped, "But I don't want you to touch them. Or talk about them, for that matter," he paused, then quickly added, "Please."

Dean knew then he had to be quiet. Seeing that desperate look on his face that had to plead for Dean to ignore the wings, it was enough to tell Dean he was being serious. Dean stopped, but he was unable to continue questioning the wings in his head.

Sam returned shortly afterwards, pouty that he had sifted out the first aid kit from the car when he had no need as Cas healed him instantly. Cas would have departed immediately if not for Sam who talked Cas into staying with them for the night, and Dean was thankful for it. Sam was always the one making the friendly invitations and open remarks whereas Dean would only feel uncomfortable in doing the same. The angel stayed reluctantly but once it was clear that neither Sam nor Dean would question his wings, he became visibly more relaxed and engaged in conversation, even drinking a beer or two while the brothers ate pizza for dinner.

Dean was beginning to understand why Cas had remained so mysterious about his wings. What he had failed to see before, underneath Cas' anger and discomfort, was _embarrassment_. Cas was embarrassed by the very mention of his wings and his exaggerated reaction towards Dean was making him begin to think that angels' wings were somewhat taboo – like a girl's boobs: you can adore them, marvel over their size and shape, but you can only keep that within your head, and maybe with your best mate.

With Sam about to fall asleep any second, Dean figured now was the best time to approach Castiel. He sat down beside him on the edge of his bed, taking note of his brilliant blue eyes. Cas' stares wouldn't be the same if it weren't for those deep eyes.

"Dean." Castiel acknowledged.

"Cas, I gotta ask –."

"Don't." Cas was already tense.

"I just want to –."

"No."

Dean sighed and was quite ready to give up, if not for noticing just out of the corner of his eye, the slight confusion across his face and his eyebrows furrowing in thought. Was he reconsidering? Dean waited patiently, keeping a steady eye on Cas.

"Wings are..." Cas begun, "Special."

"Special?"

"They are individual to the angel. Every colour is unique, as is the wingspan, and the layout of the feathers. Our wings contain the majority of our grace; if you cut the wings off an angel, he ceases to become one. It is why we do our best to keep our wings on a separate plane."

"Unwanted attention."

Castiel nodded once, his eyes set upon Dean. He looked like he wanted to say more but was refraining from doing so, like he was unable to find the right words. Maybe there weren't words. He was never really sure with Cas, but somehow, always knew what he wanted, what he was trying to say. It was a connection that only they shared.

Without another word, Dean reached over and successfully, made contact with feathers. It was like nothing he had ever felt before; the texture surprisingly soft and light, but his whole body burned with something indescribable, like fire and ice, and above all, _content_.

Castiel had a different reaction. His wing jerked at the touch and he pulled it away almost immediately.

"Did I hurt you?" Dean blinked, eyes flashing with worry. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally tug too hard at his wings which were obviously extremely precious to him.

Castiel shook his head, "No one has ever touched them before."

Dean's eyes widened, shocked at his confession. What, Dean was basically taking his wing virginity? He didn't bother to delve on the thought, brushing his hand along Cas' wing once more. Castiel shuddered but allowed Dean to continue, tentatively unfolding the wing Dean was caressing. Dean noticed, as he felt through the feathers, Cas would make different reactions to certain spots. Running his fingers along the outer feathers, Cas would tense and stifle a gasp, but by pressing underneath the wing, closer towards his shoulder blade, he would shut his eyes momentarily and hum softly. Dean stroked the area gently, watching Cas as his muscles began to relax and run his tongue along his lower lip.

Dean suddenly found himself unable to tear away from Cas' lips. All he ever noticed was his unruly dark hair and brilliant blue eyes, but never had he properly focused his gaze on his lips. They were soft, usually always pursed in indignation or complete apathy, but now parted and calm. _Content_. Castiel's wing rose slightly, encouraging Dean to continue.

"You're like a kitten," Dean sniggered, feeling as though he had to break the silence. He wanted to pull away, but Castiel's expression and low purr was preventing him from doing so. Dean trailed his fingers through his feathers, searching for other possible reactions, and that was when he found it.

Castiel _moaned_, his eyes shut tightly and breathing hitched, biting on his lower lip with his hands clenching into tight fists. Dean instinctively pulled away. Wings had sweet spots? He suddenly felt a lot dirtier, realising he had been feeling up an _angel of the freaking Lord_, which was never a good thing. Cas was out of bounds.

And a dude. Dean was straight, he told himself reassuringly, although now he was feeling less certain. He had never taken an interest in men before nor had he even considered the prospect of experimenting with his own sexuality. He had always been comfortable with himself. _Well fed_, you could say. He wouldn't deny having thoughts about Cas but he assumed they were uncontrollable and he had always been assured that Cas would remain the out-of-bounds angel that no one would ever be able to lay a hand on. Wasn't it a sin to corrupt an angel?

And here he was, giving his angel a feel that had him all hot and bothered. Nice one, Dean.

"Don't stop," Castiel growled, his wings quivering.

"Cas, uh," Dean said nervously, "maybe that's enough."

"Dean."

Ugh. There was strain in his voice and the hint of a plea, and how was Dean supposed to refuse a voice like that? His hands returned to the black appendages and only moments later Cas let out the same sound again. Dean's cheeks had turned a rather peculiar shade of scarlet, gulping down his nerves as Cas' shuddered, eyes shut and lips parted.

Dean ran his hands down each wing with a change of heart. _Oh what the hell_. He could blame it on alcohol later, even if he didn't feel even the slightest bit tipsy. Curiously, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of Castiel's neck. It was cool and surprisingly soft, and Dean's eyes closed too.

Warmth filled his heart. Maybe this was he had wanted. Profound bound – whatever you want to call it; Cas and he were closer than brotherly love and strong friendships. It was a something else that Dean had never been able to describe, until now. A relationship with someone where he could hold them and touch them and yet, there would be no thought of further sexual intention. Sure, Cas was having a grand old time with Dean's fingers in his wings but Dean was allowed to simply have his lips on Cas' neck and it would be okay.

If he did that with some girl he was sleeping with, she'd look at him strangely.

It wasn't long before the sound of shuffling feathers and low moans woke Sam up, and what a laugh Sam got when he saw Dean nuzzling into Cas' neck and giving his wings a feel. _Get out of the closet_. Whatever, gigantor. Dean didn't even care anymore. To be frank, he didn't know many people who could say they got an angel begging for more.


End file.
